The Aftermath of Bachelor Parties
by Kihin Ranno
Summary: Motoki and Mamoru have had one wild night. And now they are having a very bad morning.


The Aftermath of Bachelor Parties  
Sailor Moon Monthly Fanfiction Challenge on LiveJournal  
July Challenge - Day Three: Naked  
by Kihin Ranno  
1/1

Motoki wakes up wearing one sock on his left foot. And nothing else.

"Oh, my," he mutters and then decides that muttering is a very, very bad idea because his head is absolutely _pounding._

At first, he cannot think of what could have possibly landed himself in this predicament, but then he sees several - more than several actually - bottles of tequila, and he begins to get a vague idea. He cannot remember a thing, of course, not after that much alcohol. But he has brief flashes that involve leaping atop tables and lamenting the lack of female entertainment of the scantily clad variety. He thinks there was possibly a discussion of Minako offering (which she did, publicly and in a very loud voice with nuns nearby, much to the horror of everyone involved) and why they didn't take her up on it. Then again, she had made the mistake (or perhaps had the tactical genius) of doing it while he was sober and right after he had promised Reika and Usagi and Mrs. Tsukino and just about every other woman in Mamoru's life that was not Minako that there would be no nudity at Mamoru's bachelor party.

Motoki glances down at the state of his undress. "Well, so much for that promise," he mutters and then winces again, hating himself a little.

"Must you mutter so loudly?" Mamoru asks from what sounds like very far away.

Motoki looks around and finds that Mamoru is actually only three feet away and wearing a very well place lampshade. He is not wearing any socks. "I will shout at you in a moment if you aren't careful."

Mamoru groans, lifting his hand to push his hair out of his eyes. It falls at his side, useless. "What time is it?"

"You have nowhere to be," Motoki reminds him. "We weren't stupid enough to do this the night before the wedding or any other engagement. Makoto and Minako have promised to keep Usagi occupied long enough not to find out about the state of your drunkenness."

"I sort of love them right now, but if you ever tell them that – especially Minako – I will make sure that you die a horrible death," Mamoru says miserably. "God, my head feels like an elephant used it as a football."

Motoki sighs. "I wish that my elephant had been so kind."

Mamoru looks down at himself and then over at Motoki. "Where are our clothes?"

"I'm rather scared to figure it out," Motoki admits.

"How did we lose them in the first place?" Mamoru asks.

"I woke up once wearing a ball gown," Motoki says, sounding oddly nostalgic. "It was teal."

Mamoru wrinkles his nose. "That's a terrible color for you."

Motoki looks over at Mamoru, in too much pain to hide his amusement. "And you wonder why people sometimes wonder about us."

"And they don't even know about the waking up naked together business," Mamoru says. He has been trying to get up for some time now and has just managed to make it up to his elbows. He holds his position for a moment and then collapses, his head thunking against the ground. "Ow."

Motoki manages to reach over and pat him on the shoulder. "It was a valiant attempt."

"Owww," Mamoru repeats, quickly losing his ability to be articulate.

"The floor of your apartment is quite uncomfortable," Motoki observes. "The carpet's all flat. You pace don't you?"

"You have no idea," Mamoru says and then suddenly pauses. He groans and closes his eyes. "Oh, balls."

Motoki, who does not curse very often, raises an eyebrow. "Do I need to find my own lampshade to keep you off me?"

"Don't be idiotic," Mamoru orders. "I just remembered what happened to our clothes."

"Oh, dear," Motoki says, already knowing that the news isn't good.

"You were passed out, and I was barely coherent. You could never hold your liquor for shit," Mamoru says, and Motoki wonders if he is always this vulgar in the mornings. "Kobayashi thought it would be funny if we woke up this way… and he took the clothes with him."

Motoki blinks so hard that it is painful. "He what?"

"Stuck them under his arm and ran out of the apartment. Laughing," Mamoru concludes. "I think Shingo did the thing with the lampshade. He has such respect for me. He didn't want to see me like this."

"He has poor taste in role models," Motoki observes. "Stupid Kobayashi. Can you loan me--"

"No, you don't understand," Mamoru interrupts. "He took the clothes. All the clothes that were in the apartment. Except Usagi's."

Motoki stares. "Tell me that you are joking."

"I do not joke at this hour," Mamoru says with as much dignity as a naked man with a lampshade on his manhood can possess.

Motoki looks up at the ceiling and feels violent for the first time in what is probably years. "That… jerk."

"You're too nice," Mamoru says. "We're going to have to… call someone. One of the girls." He shudders. "Not Minako. Definitely **not** Minako."

Motoki nods in agreement. "She'd bring a camera. At least. And she would probably insist on sexual favors before she was of any help." Motoki thinks that it wouldn't be that objectionable because she really was quite pretty and he has thought of it before, but he is also desperately in love with Reika, making canoodling with Aino Minako completely out of the question. "Ami?"

"She would die," Mamoru says sagely. "She would drop dead from mortification and that would be a shame because I rather like her. She's sane. Makoto? She's sensible and of a strong constitution."

"You forget her embarrassing and persistent crush on me," Motoki mutters. "She'd never be able to look at me in the face again, and she has a hard enough time after that New Year's incident."

Mamoru shook his head tragically. "We are never giving her eggnog again."

"What about Rei?" Motoki asks and then laughs at himself for his foolishness. "Never mind. Stupid idea."

"I cannot be lectured at this hour," Mamoru concurs. "And Usagi is definitely out of the question."

"Does she even know that you drink?" Motoki asks.

"My washboard abs deceive her well enough," Mamoru says proudly, poking at them.

"It **is** something like poking a brick wall," Motoki admits. "And we certainly can't have those other three here. Haruka _terrifies_ me."

"Michiru is scarier," Mamoru says with a shudder. "Trust me."

"And Setsuna has that embarrassing and persistent crush on you," Motoki says with a sigh.

"Yes, she-- Wait. What?"

"Don't squawk," Motoki groans. "It is unbearable. And of course she has a crush on you. She just understands the art of subtlety."

Mamoru sputters for a moment. "Setsuna does not… It… How do you know if she's so subtle?"

Motoki sighs again. "Mamoru, I have spent the past… however many years I have known you for it is too early for me to think of the number watching girls fall in love with you. I recognize the signs."

Mamoru is not convinced. "What signs?"

"Just watch her eyebrows sometime," Motoki advises, waving his arm vaguely. "I'd tell you to watch her lips, but you'd wind up with a nosebleed."

Mamoru scoffs. "Her eyebrows?"

"You will be amazed," Motoki says. "Trust me."

They sit in silence for a moment before Mamoru speaks again. "Saori."

Motoki feels like slapping himself, but he doesn't because his head already hurts enough. "We are idiots."

"She's likely already killed Kobayashi for us," Mamoru voices hopefully. "She does have a gun."

"I love Saori," Motoki says happily. "Saori and her Kobayshi killing gun."

"We shall call Saori," Mamoru proclaims.

"Brilliant," Motoki says. "Although, she had a crush on you as well."

Mamoru is silent for what feels like forever.

"My God, you didn't know that either?" Motoki asks.

"Do I know any women who have not wanted to ravish me at any point in time? Other than Haruka?" Mamoru is understandably very frustrated.

Still, Motoki is irritated. "I hate you and your woman troubles and the amount of women who have had a crush on you rendering me continually naked."

"Shut it," Mamoru says. "You've had your fair share."

"It does not change how inadequate I feel," Motoki says tragically. "I also have to watch the amount of wistful sighs sent in your direction at the arcade alone. It's sickening."

"Why do you not tell me these things?" Mamoru asks loudly, making both of them flinch. He lowers his voice. "You know I don't notice these things."

Motoki shrugs. "I sort of enjoy watching you be an emotional idiot."

"I would hit you," Mamoru grinds out. "But… actually, I don't know why I'm not hitting you."

"You have no idea how many times that thought has gone through my head," Motoki says nostalgically. Then he becomes serious again. "Call Saori."

Mamoru worries over that. "But she--"

"She and Kobayashi are engaged now," Motoki says. "Besides, as far as she knows, you know nothing about it, and you're the one with the bloody lampshade. I on the hand am freezing and in a great amount of pain, so call Saori."

"Fine. I will," Mamoru decides. He tries to get up again. This time he cannot even make it to his elbows. "Why don't you try?"

Motoki also tries. He cannot even pick his head up off the floor. He finds this incredibly irritating because he is in pain and he wants to go home. It is dirty and smells oddly like moldy pizza and cologne but it is not Mamoru's apartment that reeks of far too many smells for Motoki to identify with the flattened carpet that is sticking him in very uncomfortable places. He wants to be clothed and lying down on a piece of furniture knowing that Kobayashi is dead or very close to being dead, but he is not and it angers him a great deal. And so he does something he only does on very rare occasions and curses.

"Fucker."


End file.
